Reference Point

With the lights down low
After the afterglow
Just the whistling wind in our ears
Memory is past
We relive the aftermath
I leave my to-do list in the sand
So when the day is long
Take care to carry on
Even deserts bloom, even waters pile up

Reference point
Referencing my own thankfully anonymous thoughts
Painted on days like these
A haiku, the archery, and the drawing of flowers
Reference point
Rеferencing my own shamefully еconomist thoughts
Written on years like rocks
Collected by babes on the beach
Sushi, late nights, and the wasting of hours

Is it real? Is it fake?
Is it all just a phase?
And is it over? And is it okay?
Do we know if there's any other way?
Am I useful? Am I sane?
Am I a bird in a gilded cage?
Am I supposed to be feeling this way?
And are we just throwing it all down the drain?

Am I real? Is it fake? (Is it real? Is it real?)
Is it all just a phase? (Is it real? Is it real?)
Is it over? Is it okay? (Is it real? Is it real?)
Do we know if there's any other, any other way?
Am I useful? Am I insane? (Is it real? Is it real?)
Am I a bird in a gilded cage? (Is it real? Send it down the drain!)
And are we joking? Are we broken? (Is it real? Down the drain!)
Am I supposed to be, supposed to be feeling this way?